


The case of the apples

by Menthe



Series: The gamins' bet [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Apples, Confused Javert, M/M, Madeleine Era, Monsieur l'Maire, Montreuil-sur-Mer, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Temptation, Title is going to make sense later, Unresolved Sexual Tension, hopefully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-06 14:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16834918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menthe/pseuds/Menthe
Summary: "Madeleine glanced up again at the tree. One of the branches, heavy with almost fully ripe apples hang low, just above his head. Slowly he raised one hand up, towards one of the fruits. Javert's pale blue eyes followed his movements, almost challenging. So close."The first part of a series taking place in Montreul-sur-Mer. It could be a short story on its own, but nope, just had to be a series.





	The case of the apples

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is a prolouge for "The gamins' bet". The title doesn't make much sense until the second part.

The fields surrounding the small town were still wet with the night dew, when Monsieur Madeleine set out for his morning walk. On mornings like this, one could smell the air, the cool wind and believe, that Montreuil-sur-Mer was a town by the sea. The fog covered fields lay hidden for the eyes, like a great white ocean, still and forever moving at once. Monsieur Madeleine looked upon the road before him and took a deep breath. Although he was walking for leisure, he wasn't resting at all. He indulged the silence and reorganised his thoughts before a busy day at his factory and the mairire. It had became a habit of his over the past few years to walk the fields and forests early in the morning, sometimes even before sunrise. That day started no different, apart from the unusually thick fog. But as he was walking on the familiar path he became more and more aware of an invisible presence. First he thought it was a fox or maybe a pheasant hiding in the meadow, looking at him from its nest.He walked unphased, until he heard a small crack behind his back. It was an unmistakably human noise. Somebody stepped on a small branch. Madeleine's instinct told him to run, yet he kept walking. Although he didn't see the source of the noise, he already suspected who stood not far behind him. He halted on his track.

“ Who is there?” he asked the lingering mist.

To his words a tall, stern figure stepped out of the white and walked towards him. The stranger's steps were fast and slow at the same time, the walk of a person, who never had a minute to waste, yet always arrived in time.

“Good morning, Monsieur Madeleine” Inspector Javert raised his hand to his hat in greeting.

Was the Inspector following him? Madeleine wondered. Was he hiding on purpose? He could not tell. Since an overgrown bush covered half of the path -never mind the mist- it would hide Inspector Javert from his eyes anyway. He was barely visible, his iron-gray greatcoat bending into the all covering morning fog.

“Good morning Inspector. Are you on patrol?”

“Oui, I am on patrol Monsieur l’Maire.”

Anybody would call him Pere Madeleine. Not Javert though, who just stepped closer, eyeing his gun with a mixture of suspicion and respect on his face.

“ Are you on a hunt, Monsieur?”

“ Hunt? “ Madeleine asked surprised, then he looked at his shoulder, where his gun hanged, unused “ ahh, this is only for safety. I merely went for a stroll. I find the morning air is always the most refreshing.”

“And the coldest” grumbled Javert, more to his cravat, than to Madeleine.

“ Cold, yes. Cold and clear. There is a peace in the dawn, when the town is still silent, don’t you think Inspector?”

For a moment Javert appeared to be deep in thoughts, pushing his lower jaw forward tensely.

“ I wouldn’t know Monsieur. The early mornings are either the start or the end of my patrol. Wouldn’t call it peaceful, no.”

“ I see. So is this the start or the end?”

“ Pardon?”

“Your patrol, I mean.”

“Today it’s the start. Word is, an oak tree broke half in the night, and fallen across the road near the ramparts. I am on my way to inspect it.”

“An oak tree?”

“From what I gathered… It’s the wind. Oui, yesterday evening the wind went mad for good. The tree fell and now it could be a hindrance to traffic.”

Javert held his leaden ended cane under his arm, and now mindlessly tapped on it, as he talked. Tap,tap,tap, his fingers danced up and down. His cold, blue eyes scrutinized Madeleine’s face. Madeleine bore this scrutiny with the tranquility of a saint. From the very moment they were introduced to each other, Javert watched him relentlessly. Maybe Javert thought, that his stalking gaze went unnoticed. In that case, he was sorely mistaken. Madeleine was very aware of his frequent looks, that followed him wherever he went, making him uneasy. The fallen oak tree might be the truth, or at least half of it, but still, why did the Inspector came alone, if he intended to remove the tree? It made no sense to Madeleine and now he wanted to see said tree with his own two eyes. Besides, he had one more reason to go with the Inspector that morning. Wild boars were roaming the surrounding forests, and november was a particularly dangerous time to meet one. The mating season just began and the male boars fiercely attacked anyone or anything, that seemed to be a threat to their courting.

“ I shall join you then, Inspector. Perhaps I may be some of assistance. Do you not carry a weapon?”

“ Of course I do.”

Javert waved his cane for emphasis with the leaden end glistening in the morning light. Madeleine shook his head.

“ That will not do, if you were to meet a wild boar on your track, Inspector.”

“ Wild boar?”

“Yes Inspector, you might have not met one yet, since you came from Paris and rarely walk the fields, but there are plenty of them in the surrounding forests. This is their mating season…”

“ Well” Javert cut him off abruptly “ well, then I would be most grateful for your assistance Monsieur l'Maire.”

There was an edge to his voice, that Madeleine couldn't miss.

“ I will show you the way to the tree. One can’t even see his own nose in this damned fog.”

“ I always find the fog” Madeleine searched for the right word “mystical.”

“ Mystical? “ spat Javert. From his lips the word sounded like a curse.

They started to walk and soon they fell into step next to each other.

“You know, that I came from Paris, but I wonder, where did you come from, Monsieur? “ Javert asked.

“ Ahh, from here and there… I travelled for a while, to see the world, learn new things, you know…”

“ No, I don't.”

“Ahh, I see…”

Madeleine looked around helpless. He desperately needed something to change the direction of the conservation, but nothing came to his mind. By God’s mercy, he caught sight of a small apple orchard, standing on the field, close by the road. They were puny little trees, their branches unkempt and week, but the few apples that grew on them were mostly ripe, with red and yellow colours that vibrated through the fog. He stepped off the track, to go to one of them and have a look.

“ I wouldn't pick from that tree, if I were you, Monsieur” said Javert.

“And why?”

“ Because it’s theft.”

“ How come?”

“ These trees belong to Madame Belrose”.

“ Ah, I didn't know that. They are on the side of the road…”

“ Now you know” said Javert as he followed Madeleine to the trees. He halted under the branches and faced Madeleine. Maybe because of the fog, maybe by carelessness Javert stood so close, that Madeleine could feel the warmness of his skin, radiating from underneath his greatcoat. His heart fluttered by the sudden closeness. He tried to step back, but he couldn't. His back touched the trunk of the tree. For a moment, that seemed like eternity Javert stared into his face, studied him so intensely, like somebody who wants to commit every little detail to his memory. Or maybe recall every little detail from his memory… No, that couldn't be, Javert, who served in Paris before moving to Montreuil-sur-Mer, couldn't possibly know about Jean Valjean. Surely the Police prefecture of Paris has more urgent cases to solve, than chasing after a parole breaker thief, don't they?

“What would you do, if I were to pick one? “ he asked on the most nonchalant voice he was capable of. At least it sounded fairly calm.

Javert showed his teeth in an expression that almost resembled a smile.

“Try it, and you shall see, Monsieur l’Maire” he said.

Madeleine glanced up again at the tree. One of the branches, heavy with almost fully ripe apples hang low, just above his head. Slowly he raised one hand up, towards one of the fruits. Javert's pale blue eyes followed his movements, almost challenging. So close. Madeleine's fingertips brushed the apple's cool skin. A light touch, nothing more, before he pulled his hand back, smiling.

“What if I didn't know, that this tree belonged to Madame Belrose and picked an apple?”

“But you know.”

“But if I didn't. Let's say, you didn't warn me.”

“Then I would be a reprobate policeman, Monsieur.”

With these words Javert swiftly moved out of Madeleine’s way, letting him walk back to the narrow road.

“ Well yes, that’s definitely a tree.” Javert said, as they reached their destination.

A strong-looking, but old oak tree laid across the road, broken. Madeleine nodded in agreement.

“Indeed, that's an oak tree. Poor thing.”

“It closes the road.”

“Yes, it does. We should move it” said Madeleine “ it would make good firewood.”

“Move it? Pardon, Monsieur, but lifting this tree certainly takes more than two man.”

Madeleine thought about it. He could lift the tree, yes. But there were some people in this town, in desperate need of firewood, who would never take it for free, if offered them as an alm. But they would be glad to work for it and earn it. They were poor but proud citizens.

“You are right, Inspector. I think I know the people, who would gladly cut it up and move it. I shall tell them as soon as I get back to town.”

He looked at the moss that covered the side of the tree, the side which originally faced north. He put his hand on the soft layer and mindlessly stroked it. It was very much green and still alive. ”Yet it is already gone with the tree” he thought briefly, before he realised, that he never received an answer. He looked up and his eyes met with Javert's. The Inspector regarded him with such a piercing stare, that cut right through his thoughts.The two men faced each other perplexed. 

“Well then” Javert said "thanks to you Monsieur, the issue seems to be sorted. I should get back to the stationhouse.”

For a moment Madeleine thought about saying goodbye to Javert right there and then and extending his walk instead of accompanying the Inspector to the way back to the town. But Javert still didn't have a gun on him and the wild boars were still a threat.

“You should really carry a gun, Inspector” he sighed as they were walking towards the town.

“Why you should say that?” Javert asked.

Madeleine sighed again.

“No reason.”

***

Javert never in his life was so puzzled by apples. Was this a joke? How does one handle a situation like this? So he proceeded by the only way he had ever known: he took his pen and wrote up a report about four big baskets of apples, that the station house received as a gift from the respectable Maire and factory-owner, Monsieur Madeleine. Javert wasn't sure if he should write up the exact number of said apples, but he was precise by nature and consequently, he would never leave room for mistakes or unanswered questions. So albeit a bit begrudgingly but as determined as one could be, he took the first basket and by putting the apples one by one on the table, where they usually kept the evidences, he started to count.  
One, two, three… the smell of the fresh apples filled the small office… eleven, twelve, thirteen, the red and yellow colors of the apples felt warm, like fire, although the stove in the corner of the room was cold and empty at the moment, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two… Monsieur Madeleine haven't touched the apples back then, when Javert had told him not to. Would have Javert arrested him, had he pick one? No. Picking an apple to annoy a police officer does not warrant an arrest in the case of such an upstanding citizen like Monsieur Madeleine was. Maybe he overstepped his lines, warning the Maire about the apple theft. Well, if that was the case, he learned his lesson. Four baskets of warning: do not question your superior.  
But maybe this wasn't a warning at all. This almsgiving, charitable soul of a Maire was ever too kind… maybe he did send the apples as a gift for the police, as ridiculous as it sounds. All Montreuil-sur-Mer from the poorest to the richest were in awe of him. Not Javert though. He never let himself led by his nose. Madeleine. Such an uncommon name. Almost like it's made up. Nobody knows where he came from or how he accumulated his wealth. Madeleine was by all means a mystery, that nobody cared to solve -apart from Javert of course.  
Sixty, sixty-one, sixty-two… He had been appointed Maire by the king two times. At first, he had refused. Why? Who refuses such a title, when the king himself is the one, giving it? Somebody who wants to avoid attention… Yet, he had accepted the title second time. Monsieur Madeleine as the maire. Monsieur l’Maire...The skin of the apple in his hand broke and its sugary juice covered his fingers, ran down on his arm, straight under his cuff. Javert cursed, keeping his dripping hand as far from his uniform as he could.

“Why on earth would he send apples for me?” he cried out finally.

“Inspector? Is everything alright?”

Two of the officers just got back from patrol and now stood in the door confused. Javert regarded them with such annoyance that bordered on anger. He looked into the baffled faces of his officers, then he looked at the table,completely covered by piles of apples, then at his hands dripping with apple juice.

“What are you looking at?” he grunted “don't you see, I am writing a report?”


End file.
